Luke

by Leigh Greenwood

  "She's got you there," Zeke said.

  "I've already given you my reasons," Luke said, his face still tight with anger. He might say Americans were tolerant and understanding, but he expected blind obedience, just like her uncle.

  "But how do I know you won't take advantage of me?" she asked. "You've already demonstrated how vulnerable I am."

  "What does she mean by that?" Zeke asked.

  "You have only my word," Luke said, ignoring Zeke. "I've known a lot of women, but you won't find a single one who'll say I forced her." He suddenly flashed a shameless smile. "Though you'll find quite a few who'll complain because they wanted more."

  "That's the God's honest truth," Zeke muttered. "He's as mean as a snake, but females fall all over him. I'll never understand it."

  Valeria understood all too well. It should have scared her away. It only made her want him more.

  "Where will we go?" she asked.

  "There are several canyons between here and the rim. Two people can get lost in them. A group of wagons has a choice of only two routes. We'd be sitting ducks."

  "Won't your brothers need your protection?"

  "Who the hell needs him!" Zeke exploded.

  "They'll probably be safer without us," Luke said. "They won't have to worry about protecting you or fighting off the people who want you dead."

  "We just have to worry about the thieves who want her horses, her fancy dishes, all that silver I saw on the table, and the other stuff women are so crazy about. Somebody could make a whole lot more money by selling this junk than by killing her."

  Valeria decided she was tired of being talked about like a commodity, equated with her dowry, her posses-

  sions, or Rudolf's chance to regain his throne. She was a person. She had an identity, a personality, and even though she hardly knew who she was, she was determined to make other people know that she had thoughts, opinions, and feelings.

  "Don't worry about that," she said to Zeke. "If anybody attacks you, abandon the wagons, but save my horses." She took a deep breath and turned to Luke. "This may be the most foolish thing I've ever done, but I'll go with you."

  Valeria knew she would die from exhaustion. And the heat. She thought of her relatively comfortable coach following at least a semblance of a trail as it ambled along the nearly flat San Pedro River valley. She thought of her comfortable bed that would be set up tonight for Elvira. She thought of the wonderful dinner the chef would serve during the cool of the evening. She thought of the comfortable companionship, and nearly cried. She couldn't remember being more miserable.

  Luke had forced her to leave before dawn. He'd also made her leave nearly everything she owned behind. Including her clothes.

  "You'll wear the dresses I bought," he'd said. "Your clothes would be ruined before we reach the ranch."

  She wasn't worried about ruining a few gowns, but Luke refused to let her take more than those three dresses. She used to wear three outfits in the course of a day.

  She'd never been forced to wear anything so unattractive. One dress was dark blue with white spots all over it. A second was excessively simple, yellow-and-white stripes. The third was a dull brown. There was no beautifully patterned material, no overskirt, no lace at the elbows, no ruffles. All three were made of thin cotton and closely resembled a chemise.

  He had insisted that waiting for breakfast would make them late. He wanted to reach the cover of the oak, juniper, and manzanita woodlands before dawn. After an arduous hour's ride, they'd stopped to eat. Valeria's anticipation had been high, the experience itself demoralizing. They ate sitting on the ground, holding tin plates in their laps. The food consisted of beans, bacon, bread and coffee. It tasted awful, and the coffee was strong enough to peel the leather off her saddle. Luke had encouraged her to eat up. "We won't eat again until after dark."

  Valeria decided she wouldn't have to worry about her money or her freedom. She would die before she reached Rudolf's ranch.

  They climbed up one ridge only to go down the other side. They entered canyons so narrow and bounded by such steep walls, they could only get through by riding down the creek bed. She had been attacked by at least a dozen different kinds of insects whose sole purpose appeared to be to deprive her of as much blood as possible and to leave large, itching bumps as a reminder of their visit. Even the branches of trees and bushes took swipes at her as she passed.

  Luke rode just ahead of her, apparently impervious to insects and ill-tempered branches. She'd remained in the saddle only by telling herself they would stop as soon as they rounded the next bend or topped the next rise. She knew she lied, but it was the only way she could keep from begging Luke to have mercy on her miserably unfit body. She made up her mind that she would die in the saddle before she uttered one word, but she was practically at the end of her endurance when he finally pulled his mount to a stop.

  "I think we'll camp here for the night," he said.

  It didn't matter that there was no flat ground in sight.

  It didn't matter that they seemed to have left civilization at least a thousand miles behind. It didn't matter that mountain lions were probably watching her at this very moment, licking their chops in anticipation. She could get off this horse. She'd worry about how to keep from being some big cat's dinner later.

  Luke dismounted and stripped the saddle from his horse. The tired animal walked to the creek, waded in, and drank. Valeria remained in the saddle.

  "Do you need help getting down?"

  He knew she couldn't dismount without help. What he didn't know was that her muscles were so cramped she couldn't move. She'd ridden all her life, but she'd never been in the saddle from before dawn until after dusk.

  "Please."

  She knew she was exhausted when she felt little more than a tremor of excitement as Luke lifted her from the saddle. She didn't know how he had the strength to lift her after such a long day, but she'd stopped being surprised at his physical strength. He wasn't overly big, but he was tall and well muscled. Apparently being a hired gunman required more than just ability with a gun.

  And the willingness to bully helpless females.

  "Unsaddle and water your horse while I collect wood for a fire," Luke said.

  Fortunately he didn't just set her on the ground and turn away. He put her on her feet and waited.

  "Are you all right?" he asked when her legs gave way under her weight.

  "It'll take a minute before my muscles loosen up," she said. "I haven't been riding much lately." Not even princesses found occasion to go horseback riding during a seven-thousand-mile trip using a succession of trains and ships to cross two continents and an ocean.

  "Stretch your muscles," Luke said. "I'll hold you."

  Having Luke's hands around her waist, his thumbs perilously close to her breasts, awakened sensations that had nothing to do with fatigue. The memory of his kisses on the mountain top came rushing back, causing her cheeks to burn and adrenaline to course through her body. She had found the perfect antidote to fatigue-Luke's touch.

  "I need to walk," she said.

  "I'll hold on to you."

  He put one arm around her and pulled her against his side. She stumbled along, unsure whether she stumbled due to the uneven ground, her weakened muscles, or the effects of his arm around her.

  They made two circuits of the small clearing before Valeria felt able to walk on her own. Luke unsaddled her horse. She would never have managed it without losing her balance. Besides, she'd never saddled or unsaddled a horse. She expected that was something she would have to learn before morning.

  "Don't fall in the creek," Luke warned when she led her horse to drink. It was a useless warning. The water occasionally formed pools, but it barely came above her ankles. The oppressive heat made it too warm to be refreshing.

  After watering her horse, Valeria had nothing to do except sit down on her saddle and wait for Luke to cook dinner. This shouldn't have bothered her. She never had anything to do except wait
for others to do things for her, but tonight it felt wrong.

  "Can I help?" she asked. "I can get the water," she said, stung by the sardonic look Luke tossed her way. Luke handed her two pots.

  "Wade out to the middle of the stream to make sure you don't get any silt."

  "I haven't seen any dirt since I got to Arizona," she muttered as she took the pots and walked to the stream.

  "I don't know how anything grows in this place." "There's plenty of dirt," Luke said. "It's just the same color as the rocks."

  She didn't understand that. Belgravia's soil was wonderfully black. She reached the creek and found herself facing another dilemma. She couldn't wade into the stream without getting her dress wet and water in her riding boots. Unlike Luke's boots, hers laced up. Coming to a sudden and uncharacteristic decision, she set the pots down, seated herself on a small boulder, and proceeded to take off her boots. Then holding her skirt up with one hand, she waded into the stream.

  The rocks hurt her feet, but going barefoot felt wonderful. She decided to return the first pot before filling the second. Luke's look when he noticed her bare feet was a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

  "Aren't you afraid of rattlesnakes?" he asked.

  Leave it to Luke to ruin her fun.

  "No," she said, looking about in case he'd spotted one of the disgusting reptiles. That was another thing. Belgravia was practically free of poisonous snakes.

  She filled the second pot, but she couldn't enjoy wading in the water. She kept expecting a snake to slither out from under a rock and head straight for her exposed ankles. She put her boots back on.

  "That's probably a good idea," Luke said without stopping his preparations for dinner. "Scorpions like to hide in empty boots. And in bedding."

  "Are you trying to frighten me?"

  "No."

  "Well, you're doing it anyway. Why do you have so many disagreeable creatures in Arizona?"

  He grinned. He didn't do it very often, but when he did, he looked devastatingly handsome. She could understand why women threw themselves at him.

  "I suppose they're just trying to survive."

  "Well, I'm trying to survive, too, but I don't go around biting everything within reach. And I would never think of crawling into a boot."

  His crack of laughter surprised her. She couldn't tell whether he was laughing with her or at her. "What's so funny?"

  "You."

  That's what she'd been afraid he'd say. "I can't help it if I don't understand your country."

  "It's not that. I'd just never thought of everything in Arizona biting everything else, but I guess it's true."

  She felt a little better. "What are you cooking?" She still felt she ought to help, but common sense told her she'd be more of a hindrance.

  "A stew made from dried beef and vegetables."

  If that dish had been served at her table in Belgravia, she'd have been horrified. Right now it sounded delicious.

  "Teach me how to cook," she said. "I can't let you do all the work."

  There was that look again, the one that made her feel like a parasite. "I'm aware that in your eyes I'm a totally useless human being, that there is absolutely no reason for my existence, but I do exist. I'm also intelligent enough to realize everything in my life has changed and that I have to change with it."

  His look didn't alter.

  "I didn't understand that at first, but I don't want to be a burden on everybody around me. I want to learn to do things for myself, and the first thing I need to know is how to cook. If you get hurt, I wouldn't be able to feed you. Tomorrow you can teach me how to saddle my horse."

  He continued to stare at her while he stirred his stew.

  "Stop looking at me like that!" she exclaimed. "Don't you think anybody can change?"

  "I didn't think you could."

  "Well, I can. I have. My uncle would have had a stroke if he'd seen me wading in a stream."

  "Pity he didn't. That would have solved half your problem."

  She didn't like being reminded that her uncle had tried to have her killed. "What's the other half of my problem?" she asked.

  "Rudolf."

  "How do you mean?"

  Luke stopped stirring the stew and looked up. She didn't understand how it was possible for a man to have a day's growth of beard, be dressed in dust-covered clothes, and still be so handsome her heart fluttered every time he looked up at her. Fatigue must have caused her vision to blur, her brain to create a human mirage, her heart to turn Luke into the man of her dreams.

  Only she'd never had a man of her dreams. She'd always known she would marry for reasons of state, that someone else would chose her husband, that it would be her duty to be a good wife. She'd kept her mind free of fanciful images. Now she found Luke had taken up residence, and she doubted she could dislodge him.

  Worse, she didn't want to.

  "Rudolf is only marrying you so he can use your money to regain his throne. No telling what he'll do with you after that."

  "I will be his consort," Valeria replied.

  Luke looked down as he ladled some of the stew into a tin cup. "Is that what you want?"

  "It's the role I've been preparing for my whole life."

  His eyes bored into her as he handed her the stew.

  "That's not what I asked." He poured some coffee and handed it to her. It looked as black as the soil of Beigravia.

  "I tore up the marriage contracts. You're free to do what you want."

  She turned away from the challenge in his gaze. Was she capable of handling freedom? She'd never been allowed to make choices. Now she needed to make a great many. She didn't know where to start.

  "What do you think l ought to do?"

  Luke settled back to eat his own stew. "What do you want to do?"

  "I'd like to raise my own horses."

  "Where?"

  It was very difficult to imagine owning a ranch, particularly since she wasn't sure what a ranch looked like or how it worked. This was all wishful thinking, so she might as well go for broke. "I'd want my own ranch."

  "You already have one. The ranch Rudolf is living on is yours until you marry."

  She'd forgotten that. She'd never owned anything. "Do you know what it's like living on a ranch?"

  "Sure."

  "Tell me about it."

  She tried to listen carefully at first, but she soon got lost in the description of the various kinds of cows she could raise. It seemed that the kind of grass depended on where you had your ranch, and the kind of grass determined the kind of cows. Then there was something about heat and surviving in the wild. After that she got totally confused over the differences between a Texas ranch and one in the Arizona Rim country.

  Valeria decided she really didn't want to run a ranch, not if she had to learn all that stuff. She'd have to find someone like Luke to run it for her. That idea startled her so much she interrupted him by saying, "Would you run it for me?"

  His expression went blank.

  "My ranch," she explained, thinking he hadn't understood her question. "I don't know any of the stuff you're talking about. Would you run it for me?"

  "No."

  The answer was so sharp, his expression so angry, she figured she must have insulted him somehow. "Is there something wrong about offering a gunfighter a job managing a ranch?"

  He finished his stew and poured more coffee before he answered. "I like to keep moving."

  She couldn't figure out why he wouldn't tell her the real reason. He seemed excruciatingly truthful about everything else.

  "Well, when you decide it's time to settle down, would you consider it?"

  "Men like me don't settle down."

  "Why not?"

  She held out her cup for more stew. It was delicious. She'd have to get used to the coffee, however.

  "For the same reason men like Rudolf and your uncle can't stop fighting to keep their thrones. It's in our blood."

  "You'll have to settle down when you get m
arried." "I'll never get married."

  "Everybody gets married."

  "Not me."

  "Why? I know," she said when he frowned, "it's not in your blood. My uncle says even the most restless soldiers settle down after a while. You're still young. In a few years you'll-"

  "I'm thirty-four. I'm as settled as I'm going to get."

  "Do you think Zeke or Hawk would be willing to run my ranch?"

  "Why would you want a black man or a half breed?"

  She didn't understand his ambivalence toward his adopted brothers. They seemed loyal to him, but he lashed out at them every now and then, almost as though he wanted to keep them from getting too close.

  Or from allowing himself to feel close to them.

  "That doesn't sound like something Isabelle would have taught you."

  She'd said it without thinking, but his reaction was startling.

  "You don't know Isabelle," he said, his tone brutally harsh. "You don't know what she would have said. You've been closed up in a palace your whole life. You don't know anything about ordinary people."

  "I know enough to know any woman who would adopt ten boys wouldn't want them making slighting comments about each other."

  He'd made her angry, and she'd answered him in an angry voice, but he seemed not to notice. For a moment he appeared to have left her, to be revisiting somewhere only he could see. His expression was haunted. For the first time she saw naked wanting. Only she had no idea what he was remembering, what he wanted so badly.

  Then it was gone, as quickly as it had come.

  "Let's have a look at your wound," he said. "It's been worrying me all day."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luke knew better than to let himself remember. It started him wanting what he knew he could never find. There was no woman alive who could love him enough, trust in him with such unwavering faith, that he could actually start to believe he was worth saving. Isabelle and Jake had tried, but no one could make him into something he wasn't. He was irritated that Valeria, the most unsuitable person in the world, should start him remembering and hoping.

  He got to his feet. "Does your arm hurt?"